See Something More

She stood over the left side of the sink, washing, while I stood over the left side, rinsing and stacking. Shoulder to shoulder, she patiently answered all my questions about what how Greek culture is different from American, what is good and hard about living in Europe, and what it is like to do ministry in such a time and place as this.  “It’s funny,” she chuckled. “You said you wanted to come see what life is like in Thessaloniki and I thought, well she could wash the dishes!”  This family picked up and moved their lives to Thessaloniki less than a year ago. They aren’t renting an apartment; they used up their retirement fund to buy a house. And they couldn’t be more joyful about it. They are in it for the long haul; they are settling.  So what does life and ministry on the mission field look like? As I watched this cheerful, dish-washing, people-loving woman greet people in the market, love people at church, and strike up conversation with the waiter (who served me the

On the way to a Farsi speaking church, I met my first refugees in the metro station.  It went like this: My contact person here in Greece knew of a woman who serves in a Persian church. I wanted to check it out, but neither one of them was able to meet me and take me there, so they arranged this refugee couple who attends the church to meet me in the metro station and show me the way. They found me, we got on the metro, we exchanged names, and then the husband got straight to the point. “We don’t have religion. Like we don’t believe in God. We believe in nothing.”  He didn’t say it rudely, just matter-of-factly, as if he wanted me to know this from the very beginning. I didn’t overreact, even though the thought may have crossed my mind that I got on the train with the wrong people. I probably looked a little confused when I said, “But we are going to church, right?”  “Yes,” he replied as if it made perfect sense. “We were looking for people of like-minded culture

Marseille is a large and culturally diverse city in France that was essentially created by many villages that just grew into one another a long time ago. For this reason, a village mentality still exists, meaning that much of life happens in your little neighborhood. You shop in your neighborhood, go to school in your neighborhood, and work in your neighborhood.  Situated in one of these little neighborhoods is a church called the Chapelle de Fuveau. Planted by missionaries, it is now a congregation of faithful Jesus-lovers who live and love in their modern-day village: their neighborhood.  I got to be a part of their neighborhood and congregation this past week by participating in “Christians on mission summer session.” There were ninety something participants, about half from Marseille and the other half from twelve different countries. It was a week intensely and intentionally spent on spiritual development and outreach. Basically, we studied the Word in the morning, served

His smile beamed, practically illuminating the dark storage room which was spread out with various drying pottery pieces. He proudly showed us the vases, plates, and cups in their raw form, crafted by his own hands. “Come, come see!” he exclaimed as he led us out of his workshop and towards the yard, which is where the whole process begins.  He graciously showed us each step, beginning with the lumps of discolored, unwashed clay, plopped out on the ground like it was not worth anything at all. And I suppose it’s really not at the start. It’s just some unwashed clay that looks like the mucky stuff you’d find at the bottom of a lake. But even in this stage, the potter had eyes to see the beauty and quality of the clay that was invisible to my inexperienced eye.  He washes it handful by handful, getting it ready to be thrown on the wheel. After forming it on his wheel, he sets it out for the drying process, then the heating process in a large brick oven (keeping in mind that